


Savin' Me

by duosdeathscythe



Category: Walking Dead
Genre: Actually tagging is kind of fun, Alternate Universe, Angst, Daryl is the man they find in the woods, Hurt and comfort, I did say AU, I hate tagging sometimes, Kind of follows the television series, M/M, Mentions of Rape, OOC, Rape, Romance, Shane is torn, Shane takes care of Daryl, Whump Daryl, eventually, it's there, sharyl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-24 12:57:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2582192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duosdeathscythe/pseuds/duosdeathscythe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rick and Shane are in the woods searching for Sophia they expect to find her in the abandoned cabin that they discover, not a grown man their own age whose soul is as broken as his body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's Such A Brutal Planet; It's Such An Ugly World

**Author's Note:**

> Heeey, guuuys...yeah, I know, this isn't chapter three to 'Deeper Into You', but this is one of the other fics that has been on my mind and I am afraid that if I don't write what I am feeling at the time then I will crash and burn on all of it. That is the mistake I made my first go-around when writing a few years ago, hopefully it won't happen again.  
> I love angsty and whumpy Daryl. I also like making him feel better afterward. And Higgystar, bless their soul, has gotten me to fall in love with the Shane / Daryl pairing.  
> This fic is AU and starts in season two where 'Chupacabra' would be, where Shane and Rick are walking through the woods looking for Sophia. In this fic, Merle and Daryl were never with the group. Sophia went missing, Carl got shot, and now the group is holed up at the Greene farm much like canon. But...this cannon is being shot. Apart. With Sharyl looove.  
> Fic title is from the song, "Savin' Me" by: Nickelback.  
> Chapter title is from "Brutal Planet" by: Alice Cooper.  
> Hope you guys enjoy this fic as much as you have my others!  
> Also, unbeta'd. Go figure. :P

They haven't spoken for hours now and Shane is perfectly fine with that. Rick is a few feet behind him in the woods and he can't even look at the other man without seething. Their conversation from this morning is still a fresh, open wound between them and it takes everything Shane has to not turn around and tell Rick exactly what is on his mind. Why can't he see that this search for Sophia is a fool's errand? Rick knows how it is, how it was before the world went to hell...what makes him truly _believe_ that little girl is still alive out here, all by herself?

 

Carl is on his feet, it's only a matter of time before he will be okay to travel again. Fort Benning is their best shot, there should be no arguing that fact. Sure, the Greene Farm is a pleasant break from their time on the desolate roads but there is no way that those barbed-wire fences will stop a large group of walkers. That coupled with the fact that the old geezer doesn't want them carrying loaded weapons on his property just spells trouble. What are they supposed to do against a real threat, _dance_ with the fuckers?

 

"Shane?"

 

" _What_ , Rick?" the younger man snaps venomously.

 

As angry as he is, Shane almost feels bad at the look that Rick gives him. Almost. He's been best friends with him for damn near three decades, he won't be able to give him the cold shoulder forever. He sighs resolutely, rolling his shoulders and rubbing his head roughly. Rick beckons him over and he complies without hesitation.

 

"Look, I'm sorry, brother---"

 

"Shane," Rick interrupts, pointing through the trees, "look."

 

Shane blinks, turning in that direction and is stunned to see a nondescript cabin, nearly overgrown with vines. By the look of it, it's probably been abandoned for years...until recently. Even from where they stand they can see the telltale signs of recent occupation. The entryway to the porch is clear, the only clue that anything is out of the ordinary being the even layer of dirt and grime from where foliage once was. Shane gives Rick an incredulous look, one that they share as a single thought comes to mind: Sophia.

 

With their weapons raised they approach the structure cautiously.For a moment it's like the good ol' days in King County and they're closing in on a suspect in hiding rather than searching for a little girl in the apocalypse. Their footsteps are silent and they rely on hand signals to communicate, on guard just in case what they find isn't what they want. Once they arrive in what could have been a yard, they discover an overgrown gravel trail leading east. Probably to the main road.

 

"These tracks aren't fresh." Rick observes aloud.

 

Shane nods, taking in the overgrown grass and dry mud with a trained eye. The weeds are parted, more than likely from a few bodies passing through rather than a single one, and the various shoe prints only confirm his suspicious. What he doesn't like is the obvious signs of a struggle: something---or someone---being dragged, and dried blood. The ex-cops share another look, this one grim with underlying fury. Something had gone down here and it hadn't been pleasant.

 

On the porch they find a couple of walker corpses, the heads completely smashed in beyond human recognition. Cigarette butts, broken bottles, and garbage from food long eaten litter the rotten planks and Shane sneers at the complete lack of regard. Rick beckons him to the front door where he stands with his python drawn, blue eyes expressing an unspoken plan. Shane takes a deep breath, shotgun at the ready, as Rick tries the knob. The door opens on squeaky hinges and they both wince at the sound that reverberates through the cabin.

 

Shane is the first to enter, stepping over chips of paint and dried leaves to make a clean sweep of the room. Rick comes in behind him, taking the lead and poking his head through the first entryway that they come across. A ransacked kitchen is the only other thing that greets them on this level. The two single rooms are in no better condition than the outside, old and stale with a thick earthy smell. The sun pouring in from the open door is their only real source of light, the vines comparable to curtains over the windows that allow only small slivers of light inside.

 

Blood and dirt appear scattered along the floor, a path that is impossible to follow but nonetheless leads them to a stone hearth where a stained, ratty rug lays. And more blood. Shane squats down by the fireplace, shifting around some of the ash and surviving logs with the barrel of his shotgun. He squints to see better when the light briefly reflects off of...something, something that clanks against the metal of his gun curiously. Catching sight of the object again, he forgoes any and all safety concerns to reach in and grab it.

 

He hears when Rick walks up behind him and Shane feels bile rise in his throat at what the tiny object is even before he blows the ash away, running a thumb over it's flat surface. Pants button. A pair of jeans, probably more clothing from the looks of it, was burned here. That and the obvious signs of struggle both point to one thing in the cops' minds. They back away from the hearth with vengeance in their eyes.

 

Ascending the lone staircase leading to the second floor, they open the first door that they come to with the professionalism of trained officers. A bathroom. Dingy, unclean, and completely empty. Light barely peeks from beneath two more closed doors, beacons in the otherwise dark hallway. They come to one doorway that is not illuminated---a closet, also empty.

 

The next to last room was once a cozy bedroom, the full-sized bed stripped of any sheets and pillows. The closet and drawers are likewise empty yet there are more obvious signs of recent activity. They can see from the increase of light into the hallway that the blood bypasses this room and goes straight to the last one. Rick and Shane stare at one another in the darkness, mentally preparing themselves for what they may find. Shane rests a hand on Rick's shoulder, his own lips set in a thin line. They both breathe deeply before Rick twists the handle and opens the door.

 

The smell is what assaults them first: blood, sweat, excrement, and _sex_ billowing passed them like a toxic cloud and they both gag audibly, pulling the necks of their shirts up to cover their mouths and noses. Once again they are only able to communicate with their eyes and right now they mirror one another: furrowed, pained, disgusted, and just shy of glassy. Neither wants to look inside and possibly see the naked and abused body of a little girl, or anyone else for that matter. They wait for a minute or two before bracing themselves and pushing the door open the rest of the way. Completely bypassing any search for actual danger, two pairs of eyes instead are drawn to the queen sized bed in the center and the naked body that occupies it.

 

The source of the stench, the body, is doubled over itself both arms and the left knee bent to be tied together at the headboard with a nylon rope while the right leg stretched out and tied to the footboard. After the initial shock the two ex-lawmen are able to determine that the person is not the little girl they are searching for, but instead a full-grown man that they do not recognize. Entering the room warily, they are able to further examine the body, each internally dealing with the horror and brutality of the actions from what had to have been multiple men. He lays on his stomach, lower half propped up only by the forced contortion of his own body. Old scars litter his back, nearly blending with the new wounds of the same caliber, and where rope touches skin is painfully raw, caked with dried blood.

 

They don't even want to see the damage between his spread legs.

 

"Is he dead?" Shane is the one to ask and he misses the dark look that crosses Rick's features for a split second.

 

The man's skin, where not coated with blood or colored with bruises, is deathly pale. From where the man's body is partly raised, Shane can even count a few ribs and make out some that are broken. More blood stains the once-white mattress beneath his torso. Sick rapist sons of bitches. With his gun at the ready, Rick cautiously steps closer to get a look at his face. Dirty brown hair is gently pushed to the side and like a signal whistle the body explodes with life, thrashing and wailing like a creature not of this world. Both men jump back, startled with their guns raised, fingers on their triggers with the reaction to shoot. But it's blue eyes, wild with fear and agony, not inhuman with the hunger for flesh, that makes them pause and they stare at the bucking figure in disbelief. He's alive.


	2. No One Will Ever See This Side Reflected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane and Rick figure out what to do with this new person!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys sooo much for the comments, kudos, and bookmarks! The response to this fic was overwhelming in the best of ways.   
> Anywho...this chapter is finally done! I bet you guys are more relieved than I am. lol  
> For some reason it was just a pain in the ass...I think it's because I know what I have planned later on and I want to get to the good juicy stuff.  
> Chapter title is from "Never Too Late" by: Three Day's Grace.  
> Hope that everyone isn't TOO OOC.  
> Once again, no beta, so I hope there aren't TOO many mistakes.

"Shhh! Calm down, it's alright, you're going to hurt yourself!" Rick uses a calm, professional voice that damn near can't be heard over the man screaming and snarling at them.

 

Shane keeps his shotgun level at the individual, watching the transaction, ready to make the needed call should the guy try something stupid. But really it's like he's not even seeing them at all, not hearing them, only reacting to the pain he feels and lashing out like a wounded animal. He very well may be in the mindset of a wounded animal, Shane muses, quickly losing patience with their lack of progress. He's genuinely surprised that the godawful smell hasn't lured walkers to the cabin already but he's damn sure that the noise will before too long. With renewed determination he lays his shotgun down on the nasty floor and steps up to the bed, hands raised.

 

The man turns his ferocity on him but Shane doesn't let it detour him. With precise and careful movements he dodges teeth to grab at either side of the stranger's head. At the unfamiliar and unwanted touch, the man's eyes clench shut and he screams, thrashing even harder. Rick let's his old partner have the reigns, standing back with his gun lowered.

 

"Hey, hey, hey! Listen to me, look at me! It's alright, we ain't going to hurt you!" Shane says in what he hopes is a soothing voice.

 

The man continues to squirm, trying to pull away but he won't let go. It's only when thumbs begin to ghost over his eyebrows does the man open his eyes, staring right into Shane's chocolate browns. Neither of them blink, the fighting stops, and the man just lays there breathing shallowly. Pleased with the calming effect that the action is having, Shane continues to rub his face gently, seeming to hold him together by the gesture alone. After a few tender minutes of staring into the man's soul, he feels brave enough to break the silence.

 

"It's okay, we're not going to hurt you."

 

They keep their eyes locked and Shane hears Rick holster his pistol behind him. He continues to whisper to the man even when a choked sob escapes his lips and single tears trail down his bruised cheeks. Once upon a time if Shane had caught sight of a grown man crying he'd have told him to suck it up and move on. Then again, he's never worked a rape case where the victim was male. Hell, in their small town they rarely had any female rape victims. That doesn't mean it never happened, though, and Shane is nearly at a loss as to what to do.

 

He knows, deep down, that grabbing him like he did had been a very bad idea, but it'd worked. His screaming and carrying on could have very well been a death sentence for all three of them. It still may be if they don't get a move on. But what will they do with this guy? They can't just leave him here like this.

 

"Hey, man, you with me?" Shane asks him, leaning in just a little closer.

 

The stranger's eyes flutter a bit and he takes a shaky breath.

 

"You got a name?" Shane tries, not really expecting an answer in the state the man is in.

 

Lips tremble, "P-Please...don't let 'em..."

 

It's a rough voice barely louder than a whisper, scratchy from a throat raw from screaming.

 

He doesn't need to say anymore for Shane to get the jyst of it, "No, man, those fuckers are long gone." he hopes, "And if we ever come across anyone who would do something like this, you can rest assured that they won't be hurting no one ever again."

 

Never mind the fact that Shane, himself, had nearly committed such an atrocity at the CDC. He'd been drunk, though, and something like _this_ is only done with one thing and one thing in mind only: to hurt. They did more than hurt this man and then they'd left him to die. For him to have been laying here for however many days, tortured, without food or water, it's a miracle that he is even still alive. No, Shane has to tell himself, he wouldn't be for much longer if they hadn't gotten here when they did.

 

"Hey...you got a name?" he repeats the question, hoping to get a real answer.

 

"Daryl."

 

Shane feels a smile tug on his lips at the small victory. But now comes the hard part.

 

"Daryl...my name is Shane Walsh and this is Rick Grimes. We're cops...or at least we used to be, before the dead started walking. Now, we're going to cut you loose but you can't go on attacking us, alright? We don't want to hurt you but we will defend ourselves if you force us to, you hear me?"

 

A look crosses Daryl's face; he still doesn't trust them. Not completely, not yet. For the first time he takes his eyes off of Shane to spare a look at Rick. Skinny-ass Rick, whom Shane knows looks the least threatening of the two. Who _is_ the least threatening of the two. Daryl nods tentatively.

 

"Rick's going to cut your leg loose from down there, then come around and get the rest of you, okay?"

 

Another nod.

 

On cue, Rick slowly unsnaps and unsheathes his knife. Daryl flinches, tensing up, watching his every move. Rick treads carefully, keeping his movements predictable and non-threatening. When he grabs the rope and lowers the blade, Daryl's body jerks. Shane makes a sound to get his attention.

 

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Look at me, see me. We aren't going to hurt you."

 

The sawing begins and with it Daryl shakes like a leaf, keeping his eyes on Shane as instructed. With an audible snap the tension in the rope gives and he's suddenly scrambling up the mattress, whimpering and wincing, struggling to close his legs and curl in on himself. Shane lets him. The new position _cannot_ be any more comfortable physically but if it eases his mind he's willing to let him have it. He still keeps a hold of his head. The leg that was tied to the headboard is next and after it is free Daryl trembles even harder.

 

He can't close his body from the shoulders down any tighter even if he wants to. Tears threaten to fall again when Rick cuts his arms free and he pulls himself free from Shane's grasp, pushing himself up to where his back is pressed against the headboard. He holds himself stiffly, trying to hide his nakedness from the other two men. Shane's not too sure what to do about that.

 

As if reading his mind, Rick pipes up, "There's no sheets, no clothes, no nothing in the house for him."

 

What are they going to do? Can they take this strange man back to the safety of the farm? Can they trust him around their group? What will Hershel say if they come back with him? No, no, they _can't_...they've already got so much to worry about already.

 

"Daryl...you got a camp? People you can go back to?" Shane asks and he sees the look that Rick gives him from the other side of the bed.

 

They've got to eliminate all other possibilities before they can even consider letting him come with them.

 

Just like that it's like something switches inside of Daryl and the man lurches forward in a panic, "M-Merle!"

 

He'd fall off of the bed if Shane hadn't moved to block him.

 

"Who's Merle? Your friend?"

 

Ignoring the question, Daryl makes a feeble attempt to slide passed Shane, "Merle---they cuffed...cuffed him to the tracks. Got to get him, he could be dead---"

 

"Whoa, there, hold on. You can't go traipsing through the woods like this. Let us take you back to camp to get looked at and then we can help you find your friend."

 

It's Shane's turn to give Rick a look. His old partner meets it head on but Rick doesn't back down, leaves no room for argument. Shane rubs his head in frustration at the situation. It's not bad enough that they are spread thin looking for _one_ missing person who is probably dead, now Rick is suggesting that they search for _another_. someone they don't even know, a stranger, a possible _threat_.

 

"Son of a bitch." Shane curses and stands up.

 

He quickly fumbles with the buttons of his shirt, much to Daryl's horror.

 

"Shane, what are you doing?!" Rick demands at the younger man's plight.

 

Shane doesn't stop, removing his shirt quickly to hand it out to Daryl. The man is as pale as a ghost and, after the fact, Shane realizes how bad his tact had been. Here he is stripping down in front of a rape victim. He doesn't let his slip-up bother him on the outside, instead sighing and rolling his eyes. As if his actions should be expected and welcome.

 

"Go on, take it." he says to Daryl before turning on Rick, "We can't take him back to the farm buck-ass naked and I'm sure he don't want to wear walker rags. It'll have to do until he can get looked at, cleaned up, and given proper clothes."

 

Rick nods, chewing on his lip, and spares a look at the huddled form on the bed. Daryl stares at the garment, unsure, before taking it and stiffly slipping it on. His hands are shaking as he attempts to button it, his fingers not wanting to work right, and Rick starts to say something before Shane curses again and pushes his hands away to do it himself. Daryl gasps and nearly bolts but doesn't go far with the ex-cop clutching the fabric. Shane keeps his expression blank as he finishes dressing the other man and steps back.

 

"Can you walk?"

 

Daryl looks unsure, passing a nervous glance between the two men. He winces as he moves, taking a sharp intake of breath upon shifting with his wounds. Shane steps further away to allow the man some room, watching intensely as he crawls at a snail's pace to the edge of the mattress. Daryl tries to suppress another whimper when he swings his shaky legs over and attempts to stand. Rick and Shane both rush forward when his legs give out, the bigger of the two being the one to keep him from falling with muscular arms wrapped around his torso.

 

Daryl panics at the sudden contact, trying to jump back and pressing himself, along with Shane's arm, against the dirty bed. Ignoring the discomfort, Shane doesn't try to pull away, simply remaining still so Daryl doesn't take another movement the wrong way. Once sure that he's safe, Daryl relaxes just slightly, averting his eyes from Shane's. Rick watches them, afraid of doing anything to startle Daryl even more than he already is. Shane's unorthodox methods may be completely against their training but it is working.

 

"Guess that answers my question." Shane points out the obvious, rubbing his head in exasperation.

 

Rick mimics the action, combing fingers through his curly locks. A moment of silence passes between the three, only broken when Daryl attempts to stand again before wincing and relaxing. Shane looks to Rick, the other man already staring at him. They share an entire conversation with just their eyes and Shane is the first to break contact, looking up at the ceiling. He curses.

 

"Come here, I'll carry you." he declares, leaning in to pick the thin man up in a bridal carry.

 

"Wait! No!" Daryl exclaims, not fighting the arms that snake under his knees and back but instead struggling to keep the shirttail pulled down low enough to keep himself covered.

 

Once Shane sees the reason for his tension, he lets out another curse, excusing himself from the room. Rick and Daryl are left alone to wonder at his actions, their questions answered when Shane storms back in with a crumpled up, navy piece of cloth. He walks right by Rick to stand in front of Daryl, holding the item out for him to take. Daryl does so tentatively, letting the fabric unravel to reveal boxers. The musky smell of Shane fills his nostrils and he raises an eyebrow, speechless.

 

"They ain't clean but they ain't _dirty_ , neither. It'll give you some fucking modesty." the larger man explains, grabbing Rick's arm to haul the other man out of the room.

 

They have to talk.


	3. I've Put My Trust In You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Shane get Daryl back to the farm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for updates!  
> Chapter title is from "In The End" by: Linkin Park.   
> As usual, no beta for me. ;-;  
> Aaand thank you all for the support, kudos, comments, bookmarks...hell, for even just giving it a chance. <3 Hope this chapter doesn't fail to satisfy.

Rick and Shane cut their search for Sophia short today. As they make their way back to the farm, Rick in the lead with a sharp eye out for walkers and Shane not far behind with Daryl in his arms, the biggest of the three replays his conversation with the oldest from just a few moments ago. They, at least Shane, are the reluctant saviors of this man's life. They don't know who he really is, or was, or what he's capable of. It's a huge risk, one that Shane doesn't believe Rick feels the gravity of.

  
  
After carrying Daryl for over a mile, he has been better able to see and feel just how bad off the stranger is physically. But that doesn't ease Shane's mind, not really. What did the guy do to end up in the situation that they found him in? Will the people who did it try to find him again? If they do, what will they do to those helping him? Who is this Merle fellow? Why was he left at the tracks, railroad, if Shane were to guess, while Daryl was taken off to be tortured? So many unanswered questions go through his mind, questions that he wants to shake out of Daryl but is holding himself back from. Hopefully they can get some more information out of him once he heals up. If he doesn't show his true colors before then.

  
  
Maybe they can handcuff him to the bed? The thought is more tempting to Shane than it should be, considering the circumstances. He doubts the guy will let anyone come anywhere close to him with any kind of restraint after what happened to him. No, they will just have to set up some kind of watch, like a sitter. One more thing that the group doesn't need right now.

  
  
Shane is pulled from his musings when he nearly trips over his own feet, stumbling on their path with a startled curse. He should be paying more attention with the load in his arms. Daryl cries out, in surprise or pain he doesn't know, and wraps his arms tighter around Shane's thick neck. Rick is quick to react, python drawn and spinning around ready to take down a threat that isn't there. Or maybe it is and it just hasn't revealed itself yet.

  
  
Shane is too paranoid for his own good.

  
  
"You alright?" Rick asks the pair, letting them catch up.

  
  
Shane's ankle is starting to ache again but he refuses to reveal the weakness. It can be a weapon for Daryl to use later on. With a huff he shifts the smaller man's weight, earning a pained gasp and immediately feeling a twinge of guilt from a place deep inside of himself. And then he feels annoyed from the contradiction.

  
  
"Yeah, fine." he grunts, meeting Rick's eyes.

  
  
"You want me to take him?"

  
  
"No, we're almost there, right?"

  
  
He knows the answer but needs a distraction.

  
  
"Yeah." Rick confirms, "Not much further."

  
  
Shane hears Daryl make a sound as he relaxes slightly, pressing a nose into his neck. He doesn't know how to take the intimate gesture, chalking it up to the other just trying to get comfortable. Not much further, Shane repeats the words in his mind. His shirt on Daryl is sticking between them with sweat and he is actually grateful to be half naked in the Georgian heat. Though his jeans are chaffing something awful.

  
  
"Rick? Shane? Oh, God, is that...?"

  
  
Glenn cuts himself off once he is close enough to see otherwise, that it is indeed not Sophia in Shane's arms.

  
  
"We need Hershel, where is he?" Rick is quick to ask, intercepting the Korean before he gets too close to the newcomer.

 

  
Shane can feel the bundle in his arms tense up at the new voice.

  
  
"He's inside, but what---who _is_ that?"

  
  
"Just run and tell Hershel that we're coming in and then we'll gather everyone up and explain what we know." Rick replies, ever the perfect leader.

  
  
Shane is reminded of their heated exchange from earlier and he feels something dark bubble back up in his chest at his old friend. Daryl is momentarily forgotten as he glares at the back of Rick's head as the other sends Glenn off to inform the old man of their arrival. When Rick turns back and sees his expression he mistakes it for exasperation. He gives his friend, his brother, a quick nod which Shane returns. He can't fight it, he doesn't know why he thinks he can try. Daryl whimpers by his ear and he spares a look down at him.

  
  
The sun makes him look all the worse, bruises and blood glowing on skin pale with hurt. He will definitely have to be cleaned up after Hershel looks him over. Shane knows anytime he felt like shit back in the day, he rather enjoyed soaking in a hot bath. Sadly, a hot bath isn't a luxury that they can afford anymore but removing the grime and...fluids...will surely help. Shane begins feeling angry again for a whole different reason.

  
  
"What's the problem? Who is this?" Hershel demands, blocking their path on the front porch.

  
  
Rick walks right up to him while Shane stops, growling at the obstacle. By now they've attracted the attention of everyone at camp plus the inhabitants of the house. Daryl is shaking, his grip tight on Shane's sun-kissed skin and his breathing is coming out harshly. His eyes are clenched shut. A panic attack.

  
  
"We ain't got time for this! The man's hurt, we can talk about it inside when we don't have everyone gawking at us!" Shane snaps, his temples throbbing with the beginnings of a headache.

  
  
He just wants to get out of the sun.

  
  
Hershel's weary eyes take in the body in his arms, lips tight, before stepping aside, "Come on. We'll look at him in the other guest bedroom."

  
  
Rick and Shane wastes no time, nearly pushing by the old man to get into his home.

  
  
"Patricia, get the other room ready, please." Hershel calls into the house.

  
  
Shane doens't ask, just goes straight to the only other empty room that he knows of, across from Carl's. Rick is there to open the door and the air that comes out is old and musty, the room probably having been closed off for a good while before now. Hershel, Patricia, and Maggie enter behind them as Shane leans over to place Daryl in the bed. At feeling the surface press against his back Daryl's eyes snap open and he holds on tighter to Shane's neck. The other man lets him go to try to gently pry him off.

 

  
"Daryl, it's okay, he's a doctor, just let him look at you, alright?" he tries to tell him.

  
  
Daryl doesn't break eye contact, "Please don't leave me."

  
  
Shane looks up to Rick, the second person waiting for his answer in the room while the other three occupants work around them diligently.

  
  
He takes a deep breath before glancing back down, "Okay, I won't. I'll stay right here."

  
  
Even with the assurance, Daryl still doesn't let go of him easily. With a little more coercing he gets him detached, halfway relaxing on the bed like a good patient should. Rick tucks himself into a corner and Shane keeps his word, sitting in the chair beside the bed within Daryl's sights. He almost has an urge to reach out to the injured man, to comfort him, but he pushes it aside. He's sticking around for whatever reason, that will have to be good enough.

  
  
"What is your name?" Hershel asks around the organized chaos.

  
  
"Daryl." Shane answers without even thinking.

  
  
Hershel only spares him a fleeting glance before continuing, "Daryl, do you have any allergies that I should know about?"

  
  
Daryl quietly shakes his head.

  
  
Hershel slips on a pair of latex gloves, "Can you tell me what happened, son?"

  
  
Daryl's breathing hitches and he looks back over to Shane, who nods as if giving him permission. Or backup. Maybe the guy needs the extra comfort after all. His hands twitch from their position crossed in front of his bare chest. Finally Daryl meets meets Hershel's eyes and speaks.

  
  
"My..." he swallows, "My brother---"

  
  
"Merle?" Rick interrupts, asking the same thing on Shane's mind.

  
  
Daryl confirms with the smallest movement from his head. Before he continues he looks fleetingly at the women in the room. Sensing his plight, Hershel politely asks them to leave. After insuring that the vet has everything he needs they exit the room, but not before Maggie gives him a quick peck on the cheek. When the door closes shut behind them, they wait for Daryl to continue at his own discretion.

  
  
"My brother and me...w-we were in this group." a shudder runs the length of Daryl's body, "Had a falling out. They cuffed him, Merle, to the railroad tracks. Me...figured the best way to hurt him was to hurt me."

  
  
When he doesn't elaborate on his story, Hershel moves on.

  
  
"Where do you hurt?"

  
  
Daryl's laugh is snorted, sardonic, "Everywhere."

  
  
"Can you be more specific?"

 

  
Hershel begins the physical examination by shining a light into his eyes.

  
  
"My head." Daryl starts, flinching at the brightness, "My ribs. Arms, stomach, legs. My..."

  
  
He can't bring himself to tell Hershel what else hurts, the worse part of it.

  
  
Shane does the best he can without stepping on his toes, "We found him in an old cabin in the woods...tied up to the bed."

  
  
Hershel doesn't say anything about the younger man's input but his movements stop and his eyebrows knit together in concern. After a moment he puts the light away and excuses himself, disappearing through the door for a short time before returning.

  
  
"I asked my daughter to bring some medication for your pain. Now, son...in light of recent events I hate asking this of you. I know how hard it will be, but I'm going to have to ask you to remove your clothes. I need to check your injuries and make sure there's no permanent damage or tearing. You may even need stitches."

  
  
Daryl reacts as the three thought he would, breathing raggedly and scooting back on the bed, clutching the loose shirt tight over himself like it is a lifeline. To him, maybe it is.

  
  
"Easy, calm down. I won't _make_ you do anything you don't _want_ to." Hershel eases with a placating hand held out.

  
  
At this time, Maggie enters the room, smiling friendly to the stranger on the bed. She carries a small silver tray in her hands, a tall glass of water and a couple of pills on a napkin on its surface. She doesn't say a word and sets the tray down on the bedside table. She leaves as quickly as she entered. Hershel gets up to hand deliver the water and pills to the man on the bed.

  
  
"Here, take these. They're for the pain, they'll make you feel better."

  
  
Daryl looks at the pills warily and then up to Hershel. Rick gets the next look and then Shane.

  
  
"Go on, it's just for the pain." Shane repeats.

  
  
Taking his word for gold, Daryl finally props himself up and takes them. The pills are swallowed with the first gulp of water and Daryl keeps going, guzzling the water down like it's the last thing he will ever have. Or maybe the first thing he's had in a while.

 

  
"Come on, now, you're going to make yourself sick." Shane chastises, carefully taking the glass from him in mid-drink.

  
  
Daryl puts up a small fight in the form of drinking just a little bit more before relenting. Shane doesn't let it go far from him, simply giving the man a break before letting him resume at a slower pace. Daryl finishes the water off without incident, collapsing back onto the bed with a muffled belch.

  
  
"Sorry." he apologizes, wiping at his lips with the long sleeve of Shane's shirt.

  
  
Hershel just smiles at him, taking the glass and setting it back down on the tray.

  
  
"It's alright. Mighty impressive actually. That's probably all you really needed." he says.

  
  
Rick and Shane exchange raised eyebrows. Never in their time at the farm so far have they heard Hershel make a joke. The old man has been spending the days caring for Carl and otherwise arguing with Rick about letting their group stay there. To see his mood seemingly lifted in such a grim time has Shane personally wondering what the old coot is up to. Rick is obviously thinking the same thing.

  
  
"I remember the first time I ever got sick drinking water and let me tell you, it was the last. It was the hottest day of the summer back when I was a boy and my father had me working extra hard on the farm after being laid up in an accident with a piece of equipment. I was out there from sunrise to sunset in over a hundred degree weather and out came my mother with a pitcher. Son, I drunk and drunk until I vomited it up and then some, all over the garden."

  
  
Rick laughs and Shane, himself, looks amused. Daryl yawns and as his eyes begin to flutter close the other two men finally see what Hershel did. Those weren't pain pills that he gave Daryl and the light conversation had just been the proverbial blanket tucked in around him. It's only when a faint snoring fills the room that Hershel turns his attention back to the ex-cops.

  
  
"Alright, let's do this while he's out."

  
  
With calloused hands he begins to unbutton Shane's shirt gingerly, peeling the fabric back where it is all but glued to Daryl's skin.

  
  
"So what did your mother do when you threw up all over the garden?" Rick asks, pushing from the wall and approaching them.

  
  
Hershel's eyes close softly, at the memory or the sight of Daryl's abdomen, the other men will never know.

  
  
"Nothing. But my father beat me black and blue."  
  



	4. Without A Soul My Spirit's Sleeping Somewhere Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Group discussion and Daryl wakes up from a nightmare. Hershel asks Shane an important question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo...hai, gaiz. It's been months, I know, and I am sooo sorry. Life has a way of being a bitch sometimes but you guys...you guys have been wonderful, supportive, patient, and kind and I appreciate you all sticking around and bringing me back in. :)
> 
> I apologize for the short chapter...and lack of much going on, but this one is more like a filler. And it's me getting my creative groove disco=ing again. I hope you guys enjoy and keep them reviews coming! None of my unfinished works are abandoned, I promise! <3<3<3
> 
> Oh and since I have, you know, NOT been saying this (but I need to) I do not own The Walking Dead or anything related. 
> 
> Fic is unbeta'd.
> 
> And chapter title comes from the song, "Bring Me To Life", by: Evanescence.

The entire group is gathered in the living area when Rick, Shane, and Hershel exit Daryl's room. They are abuzz with conversation, inquiries about the others' day, the search for Sophia, and the stranger in the house. The first thing that Hershel does is approach his daughters and hug them, giving each a loving kiss on the cheek. He settles in between them as Rick and Shane take point on the opposite wall. They wait for silence before explaining the situation.

 

"As you all know, we returned with someone today who wasn't Sophia. We found him in the woods." Rick starts, crossing his arms, "He was attacked."

 

"Who is he?" Lori is the one to ask, pulling Carl close.

 

"His name is Daryl. He's got a brother that's still out there somewhere." their de facto leader answers swiftly.

 

"What happened to him? He looked pretty bad." Glenn's question has the three men exchanging grim expressions.

 

They got to see the severity of the damage first hand and not only did they have their own questions for the unconscious man but it revealed a whole new danger to them. They really wanted to get more information before having their meeting but with everyone's anticipation plus what knowledge they did have, the decision was made without much debate. Even though they are about to discuss some very personal details about this man, it has to come out. It's best everyone knows what else is in those woods besides walkers.

 

"Carl, could you go into the other room, please?" Rick finally says, drawing the group's attention to the youngest member.

 

Carl looks like he wants to argue but decides against it, giving both Rick and Lori hugs and kisses before disappearing into the kitchen. Shane ruffles his hair as he passes.

 

Rick takes a deep breath, "He was in a cabin that Shane and I came across while looking for Sophia. When we found him he was tied to a bed. He was..."

 

He trails off, rubbing a hand over the scruff on his face.

 

"He was raped. Brutally. Left for dead." Shane finishes for him.

 

They are prepared for the collective gasp from everyone in the room, the women covering their mouths in horror and Carol specifically letting out a sob. There are rapists in the area and they have no idea if they know anything about the farm or not. Whether or not they know about Sophia, or worse, found her. It's not something that the group wants to think about but has to. This changes everything about their search. And that's not even counting on their word given to Daryl about helping him find his brother.

 

"Has he seen Sophia? Does he know anything about my baby?" Carol cries, leaning into Lori when the other woman wraps thin arms around her.

 

"We didn't have a chance to ask him. I'm sorry." Rick answers, "Everything just sort of happened so fast and now he's sedated."

 

Carol's bottom lip quivers. It doesn't matter how slim Shane believes their chances at finding Sophia are but he truly wishes that he can be wrong on this one thing for her sake. He can't even begin to fathom how he would feel if it were Carl lost out there. He may have a soft spot for children but he is thinking realistically. The world of old wasn't even safe for a child to be lost and alone and Daryl, a grown man, is a perfect example of how much _worse_ it is now.

 

"So...what are we going to do?" Andrea pushes the conversation along, the unspoken part of her question ringing loud and clear: _about him?_

 

Rick and Shane make eye contact for the first time since their meeting began. There had been some discussion with Hershel while the three of them looked over Daryl and each one had a different opinion. Hershel is willing to help. Rick wants to welcome him in with open arms, allow them to help each other: his brother too, if they can find him. And Shane...Shane doesn't particularly want to make up his mind until Daryl can prove himself.

 

But of course, it's not his decision that is laid on the table first.

 

"I don't think that he's a threat. He'll need some recovery time but once he's up and running, I think it'd be good to have him and his brother. More manpower." Rick declares, taking in everyone's reactions.

 

No one seems particularly against the idea.

 

"Be another mouth to feed." Shane does point out in a snort.

 

"Wait a minute, didn't you say his brother is missing?" Andrea cuts in.

 

Rick isn't sure who to address first so he takes a breath and goes, "We can keep an eye out for him as well as Sophia. We've got a good chance of finding him too and once we do, what if they help more than hinder? It'd be someone else to help out, possibly another skill-set."

 

"I say we give him a chance." Dale inputs, drawing a few pairs of eyes to him.

 

Most notably are Rick's appreciative blues and Shane's doubtful browns.

 

"If it means an extra pair of eyes to help look for my baby, I say let him stay." Carol follows suit.

 

T-Dogg and Glenn are next to agree. The Greene's are quiet but it takes a little convincing for Lori and Andrea to concur. Shane is really the last of their core group to consent and he shifts on his feet under their ridicule. He finally agrees just to agree but before he can voice more of an opinion on it they hear a thump from Daryl's room followed by a whimpered scream. Fearing the worst, a look of horror is shared before everyone explodes to life.

 

Armed with anything readily within reach---firepoker, vase, a fucking _pillow_ in Glenn's case---the group rushes to the door. Lori catches Carl as he runs in from the kitchen when Rick and Shane are opening the door, searching for danger. Instead, they take in the bare mattress and the flail of limbs tangled in sheets on the other side of the bed. Instinctively, the two former police officers are on the move, spurred on and drawn in by the panicked cries. They scale the bed, kneeling before Daryl, who is drenched in a fine sheen of sweat, eyes closed.

 

A stray kick catches Rick in the shin.

 

"Get away from me! Leave me _be_!"

 

It's the roar of a wounded animal, scared into delirium by a predator that isn't there. As Hershel pushes his way inside, Shane catches a wild wrist and gives himself an opportunity to get closer, his other hand reaching out and gliding to the back of a wet neck. The fight leaves Daryl as his body tenses up, eyes snapping open and gluing themselves to the ones in front of him. Now that he has his attention, Shane lets his wrist go to grasp his cheek instead, anchoring him to that moment in time. Daryl's body slowly unwinds but his breathing is still shallow and irregular.

 

"Hey, you with me?"

 

Eyes locked together, the other man nods, and Shane turns his head to Rick, sharing a look of exasperation. Hershel comes to a stop behind them, kneeling as well so that his presence is less looming.

 

"Are you alright, son?"

 

Daryl looks at him briefly, jerking his head in an affirmative nod.

 

Hershel then leans in close to Rick, "Take everyone back out and keep them calm. We don't need them feeding off of each other and stressing _him_ out more."

 

Rick moves to stand without complaint and when Shane tries to follow he is stopped.

 

"Stay."

 

The younger man has half a mind to tell Hershel exactly what he thinks about being ordered, especially by a man who wants no part of their group, but bites his tongue. He exchanges a familiar look with Rick: _you are in control of this, you can do it._ Shane can't help but rub his head, his only outward displeasure at the situation. Rick shepherds the rest of the group out, leaving the three alone in the room. Daryl visibly relaxes.

 

"So...what?" Shane inquires, staring at Hershel's back.

 

The older man ignores him, directing a question to the brunette instead, "Are you alright, _really_?"

 

"You drug me?"

 

Daryl's voice is subdued, scratchy, barely above a whisper.

 

Hershel bows his head for a moment, guilty, "I did."

 

Daryl sighs deeply, unevenly, and his brow furrows just slightly, "Don't."

 

"Never again."

 

Daryl says nothing else on the matter and untwists the blanket from his legs, frowning at his nakedness. He manages to keep himself decent, though, and wraps himself up so that only his head and upper chest are visible. Shane shifts on his feet in the moment that passes, no one really saying or doing anything for a couple of minutes. He watches Daryl's eyelids droop, head bobbing as if heavy on his neck. He's fighting sleep.

 

"Nightmares?"

 

Shane asks before his brain can catch up to his mouth and he mentally berates himself. Of course the guy is having nightmares, probably has been since his personal hell started. They only just rescued him that day and he himself had been present for the physical. Part of him wants justice for this man, this stranger whom no one knows anything about, and it's easy for him to blame it on being an ex-man-of-the-law. The other part, though, the one that he really doesn't like to dwell on too much, is the swell of... _something_...inside of him at the idea that _he_ is the one that's been able to ground him, _he's_ the one that Daryl allows close, _he_ is the one that Hershel asked to stay behind, despite his demeanor, to help.

 

Daryl needs him and with the recent transgression of Lori pushing him away, keeping Carl from him, it's the control that this allows him, that just maybe, _Daryl_ is grounding _him_ as well.

 

"Would it be better if someone stayed in the room with you?" Hershel prods, ignoring Shane's shifting, instead focusing on Daryl's quick glance in the other's direction.

 

He doesn't answer but he doesn't need to.

 

Before Shane can speak, Hershel is talking to him, "You want to help convince me to let you people stay? Then show me that you know compassion, responsibility. For reasons unknown, you've made an impact on this young man and I believe that you would be good for each other. What do you say?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D Tell me what you think! I know it's short. And slow. But I'm buffering. :x
> 
> Oh, and word of the day is: eye(s).
> 
> And "concur" is probably my new favorite word.


	5. You're Ugly Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane and Daryl have a short conversation. Shane and Lori have a much needed one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hai gaiz. S'been a while, eh?
> 
> I can list my excuses, you can tell me if they are good enough. *kicks dirt shamefully*  
> I was in a phase where I wanted to write on 'Death Is Not The End' and I did. And then made a booboo. An inconsistency in my own setting! So I had to fix that. And didn't want to. I felt like I had to and thus, didn't really write on this one.  
> Omgwtfbbq I went on a fantastic motorcycle trip with some friends. For those of you familiar with Tennessee (I live In Kentucky), we rode to Townsend, near Gatlinburg. Kind of. We stayed there for three days, it rained on us, it was awesome, and I rode the Tail of the Dragon for the first time. Look it up, it's a dangerous but oh, so fun road. Highway 129. :3 I got the tee shirt. The point of THIS excuse? It was a huge stress relief.  
> Which leads me to my next excuse. Stress! My ex is an ass and I have been letting him get to me. Feeling refreshed from the trip, I finally told him to fuck off. I rock.
> 
>  
> 
> Okay now to important stuff. You guys can thank MyLuverBoyLouisTomlinson for being the one to kick my butt into an update. :x I had half of the chapter written, just had to...you know, DO it.
> 
>  
> 
> Aaand about the chapter itself. I am not a fan of Lori. If you guys have seen the Walking Dead Honest Trailer (if you haven't, seriously, YouTube it, it's great) I stand behind what they said about her. "The most hated character in a show full of flesh eating monsters". BUT...I don't want to just bash her. I want her view on Shane and her regret to be realistic and I hope I accomplished that...at least a little. She is kind of going to be the catalyst for Shane pursuing Daryl. So we have to at least TOLERATE her. :P 
> 
> Still own nothing, chapter title is from the song "Outside" by: Staind.
> 
> Fic (still not) beta'd.

It's for the good of the group: show Hershel that he isn't a raging barbarian and that he can show compassion and responsibility. This is the mantra that Shane repeats to himself over and over as he sits in a chair beside the bed, watching Daryl watch him. They've been alone going on fifteen minutes or so, if Shane has to hazard a guess. Since Hershel left, neither has spoken a word, instead just enjoying the others company in silence. 'Enjoy' being a loose term, of course.

  
  
Shane keeps to himself, arms crossed and bobbing a leg up and down. Daryl is curled up in bed, after he'd been helped up off of the floor, unmoving and switching between regarding him in curiosity and  resting his eyes. Fortunately, there isn't a heavy tension radiating between them and for that Shane is greatful. He can't help but wonder, though, why is it that Daryl is drawn to him like he is. Sure, he is the one who calmed him down in that cabin but still, Rick has always been more... _approachable_...in situations like this.

  
  
Shane just doesn't do soft, chick-flick moments.

  
  
"Never thanked you."

  
  
It's so out of the blue and quiet that he considers if he even really hears it at all. He blinks, the restlessness seeping out of his one leg, and cocks his head to the side. Daryl just continues to lay there, cacooned, blinking at him. For a moment Shane is silent, contemplating his next words and fighting back what would be his typical, joking response. This isn't like the time he was visiting Leon in the hospital after the fool nearly broke his ankle from tripping in a gopher hole.

  
  
"Don't have to thank me. Used to be a cop, comes with the territory." he says instead.

  
  
Daryl snorts, "Figures."

  
  
"What figures?"

  
  
The other man shifts, averting his eyes briefly before looking back up to him, "Got more help from cops after the world ended than I ever did before."

  
  
Shane really isn't sure what to say about that. The sad truth is that a lot of officers he heard about or encountered took the first bout of chaos as a free ticket to throw their authority around and go all martial law in their respective communities. Others joined in with the riots, using civilians for their own gain and leaving them to die when it meant that they could get away. When news of the epidemic hit, he'd had no incline for either. His one and only mission was to get Lori and Carl someplace safe.

  
  
It wasn't until the safest place for the two became by his side at a rock quarry did he take control and not until Carl's life depended on it, a bullet to an innocent man's leg did he become what he swore he never would. The decision had been easy when the situation called for it, leaving no room for doubt until after the deed was done but even now, Shane regrets nothing. Once, he'd been unable to believe what his brothers-in-arms were capable of but now that he's reached his breaking point in this new world, he's been able to see just how naive he really was. How Rick is. To think that this new breed of policeman has done more for Daryl than the ones of the old would be terrifying if Shane hadn't already crossed the threshold.

  
  
"So, what'd you do before all this? Where you from?"

  
  
Daryl doesn't answer him right away and Shane wonders if he will at all. Instead he watches the emotions play across the other's face; guarded at first but transforming into something hard, cold even. As the length of the pause stretches on, he begins to really consider the type of person the group may have invited into their ranks, circumstances be damned. Anyone who has to think about their response to such a simple question has to be hiding _something_. Shane intends to find out what that is and not let his guard down in the process.

  
  
"Came from the mountains, northern Georgia. Didn't really do much."

  
  
It's incredibly vague and Daryl doesn't offer anything other than that. Shane doesn't push the conversation forward either, but does resume bobbing his leg. The minutes tick away in silence, save for the meandering of the Greene's in their house. Specifically, in the kitchen, where the clang of pots and pans signal the preparation of dinner. It makes him curious as to if the group plans on leaving him as Daryl's babysitter all night, or if he will get to sleep in his own tent anytime soon.

  
  
The chair is pretty comfortable, even if he is sitting up. Some privacy would be nice, it has been a while since he's---

  
  
"Shane?"

  
  
Lori's timid voice breaks him from his trance and he looks up to see her poking her head into the room before allowing herself inside, closing the door softly behind her.

  
  
"He asleep?"

  
  
Shane shifts his eyes to the other occupant, unaware of the time that has passed since their short conversation. He is a little surprised to see him, in all appearances, asleep. To make sure, he lets his gaze linger, studying Daryl. His closed eyes, soft breathing, and slack features serve to confirm  it. He tells her as such with a nod, smirking slyly and gesturing for her to come closer.

  
  
Lori shakes her head, raising a placating hand, "No, Shane, no. I didn't come here for that."

  
  
Here voice is stern, whispered, and her eyes are hard and determined. It only serves to chase what little of a good mood he has away. The change in their relationship still takes some getting used to. He doesn't want to get used to it. He still holds on to the belief that they had something.

  
  
He sighs, "What's going on?"

  
  
Even though she can tell that his mood has shifted, Lori visibly relaxes.

  
  
"I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. It just seems like you're really stepping up for...for..."

  
  
"Daryl."

  
  
"...yes. Rick told me what happened, what you did."

  
  
Rick, of course. It's the straw that breaks the camel's back and Shane chuckles humorlessly, running a hand over his face.

 

  
Lori continues without missing a beat, "I know you feel like we should move on, that staying here after Carl is better is a waste of time but this place, it's...we can have a life here. But what you said, if there are people in the woods that would do something like that to a grown man...what are we going to do about that? What if they come here?"

  
  
What she is saying, her words, her sentences...it takes a moment for Shane to actually comprehend them. Why did she go from praising him over Daryl to asking him this?

  
  
"Why don't you go ask Rick?" he slips out before he can stop himself and Lori straightens, defensive at the question.

  
  
There is a pregnant pause, tension rising between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Shane averts his eyes, not wanting to see the emotions in those of his former lover. Well, the lack thereof. It's unbearable to know that she once looked at him with love and adoration, even if it was for a short while. With Rick back in the picture, she may never again.

  
  
"Shane..."

  
  
She sounds tired, exasperated.

  
  
"Rick stepped up as the leader, yes. He didn't force you to step aside, you did that _yourself_. Stop blaming him for it. Stop blaming him for _me_. you know what we were doing was wrong, too, whether he was dead or not. You protected Carl and I, I will forever be greatful and Rick will be, too."

  
  
She is no longer whispering and Shane sneaks a look at Daryl, who has not moved.

  
  
"You want to know why I'm asking you? It's because you are apart of the group and we want to know what you think. We don't want you to alienate yourself---"

  
  
"---you're doing a fine job of that on your own---"

  
  
"---just because you aren't the only alpha anymore."

  
  
Shane snorts, "You don't know what you're talking about."

  
  
Lori clasps her hands in front of herself, laughing sardonically, "You saved someone's life today. You didn't need to be 'the leader' to do that and you don't need to be to _matter_. I didn't come in here to fight, I came to _include_ you. Rick has a lot on his plate right now. He needs you, you're his _partner_. You need to get over this, over me, and step up. For him."

  
  
By the end of her speech her arms are crossed and her cheeks red. She has always looked downright fuckable after a heated discussion, there is no denying that.

  
  
"So, what? You want me to just pretend that everything's just all honky-dory between us? I'm not the only one keeping secrets, I'm sorry that I'm not _handling_ it as good as you."

  
  
They're fighting words, Shane knows, but he can't help it.

  
  
How is Daryl still sleeping through this?

  
  
"I'm not handling it. You don't think it bothers me, what we did? I'm still trying to forgive you for lying---"

  
  
"---I didn't lie---"

  
  
"---about my husband being dead. Am I completely blaming you for this? No. But I am trying to overcome this and you should, too, instead of letting it eat away at you like it is. You used to be so much more than this."

  
  
Her words ring deep into Shane's mind and he is surprisingly silent for her tirade.

  
  
She steps closer to the door, "We care about you, Shane. All of us, but especially Rick. And now Daryl. Just...please, try. If not for yourself, then for us. For him."

  
  
With that last part, she gestures to Daryl.

  
  
"I don't know when, or how, but I am going to tell Rick what happened. I don't know what I'm waiting for...the right moment, I guess. But it needs to happen. It's the only way I will be able to feel better about it."

  
  
Shane is still quiet, staring a hole into the floor.

  
  
"We're making dinner tonight with the Greene's. You're invited, if you want. Or we can bring you a plate."

  
  
With that she is out the door, closing is softly behind her.

  
  
Shane doesn't move from the chair, thinking about her words. He has known Rick and Lori practically his entire life, they all grew up together, after all. Him and Rick, even then, crushed on Lori at the same time. But Rick got to her first, asking her to the school dance in junior high. And what did Shane do, then?

  
  
He replaced her. Maybe not in his heart, but definitely in his mind. It worked, too, until the damned apocalypse. It was every bit her fault as it was his. He hates to admit it, but she is right.

  
  
He'll just have to replace her once again. But with whom? Definitely not the Greene's. Andrea, Carol? Hell, Glenn? No, the Korean is already hooked on Maggie.

  
  
Ready to distract himself from his fruitless plan, he moves to stand, glancing up at Daryl as he rises.

  
  
Blue eyes are staring at him intently.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...yay, a new chapter! Sorry there's not much going on besides Shane and Lori talking. Damn it. lol
> 
> Tell me what you guys think, either way! (Please)


	6. You're The Closest To Heaven That I'll Ever Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane contemplates things. And stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! I know it has been a while but I have not given up! Before the holidays reared their bright and sparkly heads, I started work as a dog groomer and training has been time consuming. Fortunately, I had this chapter about halfway done and finished the rest of it tonight. I will probably try to update 'Bad Things' next...but omg you guys, I have been reading Supernatural Destiel fics when I have been away from home and I am trying so, so hard not to start up ANOTHER fic under that section. ;-;
> 
> I know I gave a long list of fics I want to do but really there are two others that are itching at me. The Destiel fic and one where Murphy MacManus (Boondock Saints) is Daryl. I am in love with those fics, be they gen or Rickyl or Sharyl. If and / or when I write mine, I don't know if it will be Rickyl or Sharyl. Perhaps I will take a vote. Who knows. I don't.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and, even though I am kind of stuck on 'Bad Things' where I am at, I will try to overcome it and get it updated next. That or my multi-chapter of oneshots based off of msbt's work, 'Wild'. Until then, enjoy!
> 
> Chapter title is from 'Iris', by: The Goo Goo Dolls.
> 
> Still have no beta. Warning for vomiting in this chapter. Not a big deal to me but some people may get grossed out, I guess.

Later that evening, Carol brings in a plate of hot food for Daryl and alerts Shane so he, himself, can eat as well. The door is left ajar when he joins everyone else in the dining room, chuckling silently when he sees Glenn seated at the 'kiddy table'. He nods at Lori before taking the empty seat near the end of the table across from Rick. Dinner is in a way that is reminiscent of a country magazine: large serving plates and bowls filled with a delicious assortment of home-cooked food. It's almost enough to forget the world outside of the farmhouse and imagine that he is a guest invited over for Thanksgiving, much like he's been at the Grimes'.

  
  
"Now." Hershel says just as Shane is moving to fill his plate, "We will say grace."

  
  
The group seems unsure of themselves as the Greenes and company begin linking hands. Slowly, one by one, the group follows suit. It's easy for Rick to take the hands of Lori and Carol. Lori and Andrea falter, as if one expects the other to bite. T-Dog takes Patricia's thin hand into his own and then Shane is the only one left. The ex-cop sits between Carol and T-Dog yet he is the centerpoint of everyone's gaze. Even Glenn, Maggie, Beth, and Jimmy, who sits off to the side. But it's Rick and Lori, his _family_ , their expectations of him, and the silent plead that convinces him. _We want you to be apart of our family._ Please _be apart of this family._ Shane completes the circle, closes his eyes, and bows his head.

  
  
"God, we thank you for this food. For rest and home and all things good. For wind and rain and sun above. But most of all for those we love. Amen."

  
  
Hershel's voice is soft and the prayer comes without hesitance or falter.

  
  
"Amen."

  
  
Even Shane voices his affirmation.

  
  
Food is passed around, juice is poured, and dinner is eaten in silence. It is very calm, relaxing even, and it allows for Shane's thoughts to wander. Even though he seems to be doing okay for himself right now, Daryl very much hadn't liked waking up alone. Though he _had_ been drugged. Will he require someone's presence, _Shane's_ presence, to fight off the demons in his head?

  
  
He's really not sure how he feels about that.

  
  
Ever since Rick was shot, Shane has felt needed. He _needed_ to protect Lori and Carl. He _needed_ to get them to Atlanta. He _needed_ to protect the ragtag group of men, women, and children who followed him to the quarry. Rick's return from death put an end to all of it and now he is treated as if no one owes him anything.

  
  
He'd be lying if he said that didn't hurt. It especially hurt when Lori all but accused him of _planning_ it all out. As if he could even do that to them. It just so happened that him and Lori came together in their time of mourning and loneliness, fear and desperation. What bothers him the most, though---

  
  
His thoughts are interrupted when everyone shifts their attention to Glenn and Maggie, who look like they've been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Hershel looks disapproving and Glenn's blush gives him away. Really, what is up with that? They are both grown, consenting adults. What does it matter how they choose to help themselves.

  
  
As long as they are safe. God knows nobody needs a baby crawling around these days, farm or not. Someone clears their throat and one by one, the group returns to eating. Except this time, there is an air of tension in the room. The corners of Shane's mouth twist up into a smirk.

  
  
That kid never catches a break.

  
  
By the end of the meal, everyone is sated and Shane almost forgets about the additional guest until Carol comments about collecting his dishes.

  
  
"No, no. Don't worry. I got it." he offers, beating her to the door with an expression that is not unkind.

  
  
Carol is one of the few people that he's not so sure he can raise his voice to.

  
  
"Are you sure?" the timid woman questions him, ever so quietly.

  
  
"Yeah. Go on now, relax." he tells her.

  
  
She doesn't smile, instead simply averts her eyes and nods. She follows the rest of the women to the kitchen to clean, leaving Shane alone to check in on Daryl. When he enters, the first thing he notices is the plate on the bedside table is untouched but the glass of water is empty. The younger man is on his side, back to the door, and Shane would think him asleep if not for him peeking over his shoulder. Once he sees who it is, Daryl carefully rolls onto his back, tugging the blanket up to his scruffy chin.

  
  
"You didn't eat."

  
  
It's not a question and it comes out in an exasperated sigh.

  
  
"Not real hungry." comes the muted reply.

  
  
Shane rubs his head, feeling an odd sense of deja vu from when Carl was younger.

  
  
"How long's it been since you've eaten, huh?"

  
  
"Don't know."

  
  
"Well, you know you've got to eat to get your strength up, right?"

  
  
It's logical, but Daryl doesn't say anything back.

  
  
"Come on, eat some green beans. Something. The women won't take too kindly to you snuffing their food, now. Trust me, you don't me to send Carol in here after you."

  
  
It's a joke, a bluff really. Shane doesn't think Carol can force anything on anyone if she tried.

  
  
"Maybe tomorrow? Really don't want to eat nothing."

  
  
"Alright. How about we meet in the middle." Shane concedes, picking up the plate and moving over to the chair at the bedside, "Take one bite from everything and we'll call it even."

  
  
Daryl is frowning at him. He can't see his mouth but he can tell it in his eyes. Shane knows that he is being mildly unreasonable; Daryl is an adult, he can refuse if he wants. But the women worked hard on this meal and the younger man really should eat something. If Shane doesn't mother-hen him, someone else will and Daryl's already shown that he is the one that he feels most comfortable with.

  
  
Without a word, Daryl props himself up with a wince. Victorious, Shane passes the plate to awaiting hands. Contradicting his previous words, Daryl takes a bite of the food and swallows with minimal chews, digging right on in like a starving man. Shane watches him inhale the corn and move right on to the green beans. He is halfway through those when the ex-cop speaks.

  
  
"Guess you _are_ hungry then, huh? Here, let me get you some more water." he laughs, grabbing the empty glass to refill it.

  
  
He misses Daryl's eyes follow him out the door.

 

Shane passes by the family room, catching sight of his group and most of Hershel's conversing lightheartedly. Maggie nearly runs him over in her haste to leave the kitchen, throwing a quick apology over her shoulder as she rushes through the house. Shane doesn't think much of it, just continues on into the kitchen where he takes notice of the women doing dishes. They regard him only briefly as he refills Daryl's glass from a jug of collected water, continuing with their conversation as if he isn't there. It's fine with him; he's a man on a mission.

  
  
With the glass filled to the brim, he makes his way back to Daryl's room, careful not to spill anything. He is successful and it shows on his face as he reaches his destination, yet it is quickly replaces by shock when he takes in Daryl's prone form and the empty plate. Licked clean from the looks of it. Daryl is curled up on his side, watching him with those bright blue eyes. Shane clears his throat before setting the glass down on the nightstand.

  
  
"Guess, uh...you changed your mind?"

  
  
Daryl is silent.

  
  
"The ladies are going to be awful glad to see that you ate, you know."

  
  
"Why're you all even doing this? You don't know me."

  
  
Shane wants to tell him that the reason is because it is _right_. The words are in his mouth but he can't bring himself to say them. When they'd first discovered Daryl, sure, he'd been horrified at the injustice but when it came to helping the other man, he'd been hesitant. How much time, effort, and supplies would it take? It was all about how much they could help him versus how much he could help them.

  
  
Since coming into their---Shane's---care, though, Daryl has wormed his way into...something. He's gone from being an unwilling charge to a ticket back into the good graces of the group in just a few hours. He looks up to Shane as his savior. So what then, really, is he to Shane? _Just_ a means?

  
  
No. Not anymore.

  
  
"I want to help you."

  
  
It's not much but it's really all he can say; nothing is making sense in his own mind anymore and that comes closest to what sounds right.

  
  
"Why?" Daryl questions quietly.

  
  
"Do I need a reason?"

  
  
"Everyone has a reason."

  
  
Shane shakes his head and runs a hand along his scalp, "I don't know, man. I don't know what you're wanting to hear. I've never been in a situation like this before and I'm just taking things as they come."

  
  
Daryl is silent as he processes this, not breaking eye contact. As much as he wants to, Shane meets that piercing gaze. He has never backed down from anything before in his entire life, even if it meant simply taking another route. He's not sure what is going on but somehow this moment, this man, feels important. And that scares the living hell out of him.

  
  
The silence is broken by a gurgling rumble and Daryl shifts, body suddenly taught as a hand presses tightly to his mouth. Shane knows what is coming and his reflexes kick in, diving for the small wastebasket as the younger man leans over the bedside and releases the contents of his stomach. The timing is perfect and Daryl's aim...almost is...as half-chewed food and acrid bile splashes into the receptical. Shane cringes, holding it with one hand and up in the air with what to do with the other. He settles on resting it gently on Daryl's back, rubbing soothingly over the bindings around his ribs.

  
  
He really should have stuck around to moniter how quickly Daryl injested the food but he didn't think the guy would make himself sick. Feeling guilty, Shane's hand continues to rub, even when Hershel enters the room. He doesn't know what to tell the older man, simply gestures to the empty plate of food with an incredulous expression. Hershel closes the door and waits out Daryl's heaving until there is nothing left. He ties the bag up as Shane guides the water to Daryl's lips, urging him to drink.

  
  
This time it is done so in sips and Shane helps him to lay back down, rubbing damp bangs from his forehead while Hershel looks his stitches over.

  
  
"Thank you."

  
  
The words are whispered, hoarse, the breath downright rank, but they awaken something within Shane that keeps him at Daryl's bedside for the remainder of the night, until he falls intp a restful sleep.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, I love how Carol in previous seasons is like...NOTHING like Carol in the current seasons. I highlighted that on purpose. :P
> 
> Also, I have no idea how the seating arrangements were at the table. When I wrote the scene, I don't know if I guessed or watched the episode to get it right. Either way...fiction, ya?
> 
> Also, again, the prayer that Hershel recites is an actual food blessing. I am not good making up that kind of stuff.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Tomorrow morning...(in the fic)...THE BARN IS REVEALED! HAHA!


	7. Come Along And Meet 'Em

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl wants to go outside, so Shane takes the time to introduce him to the group and tell him his story with Rick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, gaiz! As promised: chapter seven, before GISHWHES starts!
> 
> I am sorry that it has taken me so long to update. Between other projects, personal stuff, and working more, it has been a crazy ride. I also had all four of my wisdom teeth taken out at the same time, so that was fun. I have also been learning a new language: Gaelic. Also very fun. More fun than getting my wisdom teeth pulled. Also: Pokemon Go. And geese. Canadian geese are bastards. (No offense to Canadians, I love you guys.)
> 
> Without further ado, chapter seven.
> 
> Also, nothing against gruel.
> 
> Not beta'd.
> 
> Chapter title is from, "Meet the Family".

The night goes about how Shane expected it to. Daryl doesn't vomit anymore but neither man gets much sleep. Despite being wounded and nauseated, Daryl tosses and turns in his sheets, whimpering and fighting off unseen assailants. Shane has to wake him up when it gets too intense, comforting him and keeping his demons away until he loses consciousness again. That goes on until just before sunrise, when the farm comes alive and they stay awake with the hustle and bustle of the Greene's.

  
  
Hershel steps into the room to check on the pair, not all that surprised to find them awake. Shane is like a silent sentry in the chair, watching as the older man speaks with Daryl and briefly looks him over as he changes his bandages. Still appearing worse for wear, the redneck claims that he feels better and is fine but that doesn't stop the other two from checking. After his episode only a few hours ago, Hershel limits him to a liquid diet until his deprived stomach can handle soft and then more solid foods. Satisfied with the checkup, the vet moves to leave until that quiet voice stops him with a silent request.

  
  
"I want to go outside."

  
  
It is a question disguised as a comment, an impulsion that Hershel is familiar with, ingrained from a controlling and abusive atmosphere that he, himself, outgrew long ago.

  
  
He meets Daryl's eyes only briefly before the other man breaks the contact. He debates the pros and cons, a kindred spirit versus a makeshift physician. He understands the power of the mind in the body's healing process, how important it is to be uplifted in spirit. Ultimately, that is what makes the decision for him.

  
  
"If you can manage it, I'm sure it will do you good. So long as you don't strain yourself and keep within his" he gestures to Shane, who perks up at his name, "sights."

  
  
The  ends of Daryl's lips twitch up in the barest hint of a smile, but it is when he lifts his eyes, glowing in radiant appreciation, that Hershel knows he made the right call.

  
  
"I'll find you some clothes. I may even have my late father's cane, if you need it." he says, dismissing himself with his new task.

  
  
Once the door closes, Daryl spares a look to Shane, "Won't use no cane."

  
  
Shane laughs and leans forward on his elbows, "Fine by me. I'll help you out if you need it."

  
  
Daryl doesn't say anything to that and they sit there in silence, waiting for Hershel to return. The older man does so in a matter of minutes, carrying some folded clothes, socks, and boots with a cane swinging from the crook of his arm. Shane and Daryl exchange a look, a silent understanding between them. Hershel lays everything out, all of it several sizes too big but revealing a wound-up belt beneath it all. They are obviously Otis' and Shane's mood darkens.

  
  
"Do you need any help?" Hershel asks before he leaves.

  
  
"No. Thank you."

  
  
"I'll stick around, just in case." Shane pipes up and Daryl doesn't argue.

  
  
"Holler if you need anything."

  
  
As simple as that, Hershel is gone.

  
  
Lost in his own thoughts but convincing himself that it is to respect Daryl's independence, Shane takes his head into his hands and watches from the corner of his eye as the younger man raises himself up in bed with barely a wince. The blanket falls to gather at his naked waist and Shane can't help but sneak a peek at the sliver of exposed skin beneath the bandages. He watches Daryl's biceps flex, lean muscle ripple in his back and shoulders as he shifts himself slowly to the edge of the bed. The new position gives him a perfect view of his damaged back, a roadmap of scars that he'd damn near forgotten about. Most of the blood and grime is gone, rubbed free by the redneck's own sweat and the linen of the sheets.

  
  
Daryl moves stiffly, lifting himself from the mattress and shifting gingerly. One leg is exposed over the side, followed by the other, bare feet making no sound as they come in contact with the cool wooden floor. Keeping most of his weight on his arms, he finally lifts himself free of the blankets, buck ass naked save for the bandages. Shane can't stop his eyes from roaming and he feels a bit guilty checking out _a rape victim_ , but he does look away before the other can reveal his front half. It's not like Shane hasn't seen it already but he is giving him _some_ dignity.

  
  
He trusts in Daryl's confidence, his stubbornness, in dressing on his own and relies on his ears to track the other's movements. His steps are quiet, too quiet given the circumstances, and he is amazed to find that the only sounds he makes is the occasional wince or grunt. Shane listens to the rustle of clothes and a curse is what causes him to look back up. Daryl tenses up like a deer caught in a spotlight, one hand holding himself up by the footboard and the other clutching a pair of boxers over his groin. His cheeks are flushed, either from frustration or embarrassment, Shane doesn't know.

  
  
Time seems to freeze as they stare at one another.

  
  
"You, uh, need a hand?" the older man inquires with an arched eyebrow.

  
  
He hates to ask, more for Daryl's benefit than his own, but it will be his hide if he hurts himself further after he told Hershel that he'd stay with him. Seeing the uncertainty in his eyes and the unconscious twitches of his face as he thinks about it, Shane ultimately makes the decision for him, figuring that the lack of an immediate dismissal is good enough. He stands for the first time that morning, stretching and popping his back as he takes the two steps to close the distance between them. As expected, Daryl flinches and clenches his fist tighter in the material of the boxers. Shane interrupts him as he begins to protest.

  
  
"Look, I know that you don't really want my help. I'm sure that once you're back to full health, you'll kick my ass for this. But I'm not going to let you hurt yourself while you're putting on some damned underwear. Won't that be the more embarrassing scenario? And the old man will skin both of us alive and extend your bed rest. Let me do this and nobody has to know. Just trust me."

  
  
Daryl makes no attempt to stop him from taking the boxers and kneeling before him, studiously keeping his eyes avoided as he unravels them and instructs the other to place his hands on his shoulders and step through the leg holes. Daryl does so slowly and shakily, supporting most of his weight on Shane as he does so. The entire process is clinical and by the time Daryl is sat on the bed so that Shane can slip on some socks and boots, he is visibly more relaxed. The belt is a bit more tricky but it and the shirt ultimately go on without a hitch. In the end, Shane steps back to allow Daryl to stand again on his own.

  
  
The other man dos so with his arms held out to steady himself, a win in Shane's eyes. At a snail's pace they trudge to the door and he takes charge by opening it, allowing Daryl entry into the house beyond. Activity slows to a near halt, their presence drawing the immediate attention of Beth and Jimmy. Hershel spares them a glance from his position at the dining room table, gently closing the book he had been reading and sliding it to the side. The words ' _The Once and Future King_ ' stand out boldly from the well-worn cover.

  
  
Beth is the first to move, quick and precise in gathering up some items to present to the pair, stopping before them and holding out two  glasses of apple juice.

  
  
"Hi, my name's Beth and that's Jimmy." she says to Daryl, "Daddy told me that you were on a liquid diet...I didn't know what you might want, we're kind of limited on our choices until my sister, Maggie, goes out on a run."

  
  
Shane takes the offered beverage gratefully, just really noticing the hunger pains in his stomach. Daryl takes his just after with a minute "Thanks."

  
  
"We've got some fresh milk, tea or coffee, broth, and the makings for gruel. Any of that sound good to you?"

  
  
"What the f---what is _gruel_?" Shane asks before Daryl can answer, brushing Hershel's stink eye off at nearly dropping the f-bomb in front of his youngest.

  
  
Beth just laughs at him, "It's pretty much like warm cereal. Other meals can be used but right now, all we've got is oatmeal. You boil it in milk or water."

  
  
Shane meets Daryl's eyes, "What do you say, man? Any of that sound good to you?"

  
  
The redneck nods. Shane and Beth wait for him to elaborate but when he doesn't, the young blonde takes the reigns.

  
  
"I'll whip you up some gruel." she decides, spurring Jimmy into action alongside her in the large kitchen, "How about you, Shane? We've still got leftovers from breakfast."

  
  
As wonderful as a home-cooked farm breakfast sounds, especially since he could smell it being cooked from the other room, Shane declines.

  
  
"I'll just have what he's having." he tells her and then to Daryl, "Want to sit down?"

  
  
The other man nods and the two join Hershel at the table while their breakfast is made.

  
  
"Now, just because you are going outside it doesn't mean you can go and do anything stupid." Hershel reminds them, "No running, no climbing, and no lifting."

  
  
"Yes, sir." Daryl answers politely, staring at the table.

  
  
Jimmy offers them more to drink, to which Shane requests coffee and Daryl simply wants water. Within minutes  their breakfast is sat before them and Shane is not surprised at how gross it is, even with the barest hint of sugar. Really, though, with a name like _gruel_ , he hadn't expected much. Daryl doesn't seem to mind the slop, this time pacing himself with small bites and a slow speed. Even so, he finishes when Shane is about halfway through his own and waits patiently for the other man to finish as well.

  
  
Hershel goes back to reading and Beth and Jimmy gather their dishes to be cleaned. Shane helps Daryl out of the chair to resume their trek outside. The morning Georgian sun is already making things hot and both men shield their eyes when they step out onto the porch. The camp and farm is alive with movement, some members of the group helping out eagerly with the chores requires for the farm's upkeep. Not that Shane has any experience with that kind of stuff.

  
  
They ease their way down the wooden steps, quickly grabbing the attention of the others. Rick is with T-Dogg, taking a break from pouring over the map of the area to watch them with rapt eyes, and Lori and Carl are looking up from feeding the chickens with Patricia. Glenn stands off to the side with Maggie, a basket brimming with vegetables between them, and Andrea is with Dale on top of the camper, their attention also drawn to the newly-emerged pair. Carol is in the shade of the trees, hanging laundry and peeking at them from in between clothes.

  
  
Shane suddenly feels like a teenager again, standing before an audience at his first high school football game. Oh, well, he will just have to take it now like he did then. Minus the goat and the knowledge of Fred Lockaby's plans of streaking during halftime. But, boy, did Freddy take the edge off.

  
  
Carol is the first that they come across and Shane figures that now will be as good of a time as any to introduce Daryl to everyone.

  
  
"Daryl, this is Carol. Carol, Daryl."

  
  
Carol smiles weakly, silent, and Daryl greets her with a quiet, "Ma'am."

  
  
When nothing more is exchanged, Shane starts to lead them away until a meek voice stops them, "Did you..."

  
  
They stop to regard her and Shane knows what she is going to say before she opens her mouth again.

  
  
"When you were out there, did you see a little girl? This tall," Carol gestures a height with a thin hand, "blonde hair?"

  
  
She sounds so hopeful, eyes already sparkling with unshed tears. She is trying to hard to keep it together and Shane feels for her, he really does, which is why he doesn't repeat his opinion on the matter. Daryl has an unreadable expression on his face, staring at the distraught mother with an odd look. The air between them is thick and silent and Shane wonders if he will answer at all. He does, though, and his answer is as predictable as the question.

  
  
"No, ma'am. Sorry."

  
  
A sob escapes Carol's lips and both men bow their heads but Shane ultimately leads Daryl away, explaining quietly once they are far enough away, "She lost her daughter four days ago in the woods. It's why we're here, it's how I found you. I hate saying it but I know there's no way that girl is still alive out there. Rick just won't give up this farce."

  
  
He knows that some of his pent-up frustration bleeds out into the conversation but really he can't help it.

  
  
"Why?"

  
  
Shane makes a wild gesture with his hands, "Exactly! I don't know what he's thinking---"

  
  
"No."

  
  
Shane stops mid-rant as Daryl continues.

  
  
"Why do you think she's dead?"

  
  
"Aw, man, not you too. Hold up a sec." Shane pauses their conversation when they come up to Andrea and Dale on the RV, "Guys, Daryl. Daryl, Andrea and Dale."

  
  
Pleasantries are exchanged, though Andrea is a tad wary of the newcomer.

  
  
Dale is the one who engages him, "So how are you feeling? Better, I hope?"

  
  
"Yes, sir."

  
  
"Good." Dale smiles, the entire interaction taking only a handful of minutes, and the pair are on their way again.

  
  
"Told you before that I was a policeman." Shane continues their conversation as if it never stopped, "Before all this started, we had forty-eight hours to find a missing person alive and after that you were looking for a body. There's no way that girl's still out there."

  
  
"That's nothing. I got lost when I was little, barely a brat. Was gone for ten days before I found my own way home."

  
  
Shane is shocked by the admission, he wants him to elaborate, but the conversation is held off once again as they approach Rick and T-Dogg.

  
  
  
"Hey, brother, how's it going?"

  
  
"It's going. Good morning, Daryl." Rick replies, smiling at the newcomer, "Glad to see you're doing better."

  
  
"Thank you."

  
  
"Daryl, you know Rick. This is T-Dogg."

  
  
"Hey, man."

  
"Hello."

  
  
Leaving the two to their own introductions, Rick grabs Shane's attention.

  
  
"T-Dogg says he's feeling up for helping out today. Figured he and I can pick up where you and I left off before we found Daryl and you can stay here to help out." he informs him and Shane nods, fine with the decision.

  
  
After all, at least here with Daryl, he isn't wasting his time _out there_.

  
  
"Sounds good. We're just chilling around this morning, making introductions. Daryl's wanting to stretch his legs."

  
  
"Did Hershel say it was okay for him to be out?" Rick questions, oblivious to Daryl's stiffening posture.

  
  
Shane notices it, though, and comes to the other man's defense a little too quickly, "Of course he did, I didn't sneak him outside just to waltz."

  
  
Fortunately, Rick mistakes his sarcasm for playful banter and he smiles brightly.

  
  
"Just don't dance too hard. Hershel will have both of your heads." he chuckles and just like that, gets back to work.

  
  
Shane bites his tongue, leading Daryl away and out of earshot before letting loose.

  
  
"Who the hell does he think he is, thinking I'm going to let anything happen to you? As if I've not every one of our people safe before _he_ came along."

  
  
In his ranting, he doesn't realize that Daryl is struggling with his pace until the other lets out a restrained whimper. He comes to an immediate halt, anger forgotten, and takes in his pained expression. Sighing in frustration with himself, he rubs a hand over his buzzed scalp and allows Daryl to regain his composure. Great. He just did what he got pissed at Rick for insinuating he'd do.

  
  
"Fuck, man, I'm sorry."

  
  
Daryl, with his skin glistening with sweat not from the heat, waves him off even though he looks like he wants to curl in on himself, "It's fine."

  
  
"No." Shane snaps, "It's not. Come on, let's sit. Or something."

  
  
He isn't sure where Daryl is hurting but he has an idea and the thought makes him cringe. Is it even okay for him to sit? Hell, is it even _comfortable_? Shane leads Daryl over to the circle of fold-up chairs, slower this time, and helps him ease down into one, taking the other beside him. He can't ignore the way Daryl sits, tense and crooked, leaning to the side.

  
  
Jesus, he feels even worse.

  
  
But before he can apologize again, Daryl surprises him by speaking first.

  
  
"So, Rick." he winces, "He just showed up and took over?"

  
  
A change of subject. A distraction.

  
  
Shane bites, "Might as well tell it from the beginning. I've known Rick...God, I've known Rick for as long as I can remember. Lori, almost as long."

  
  
He has to clarify at the questioning tilt of Daryl's head.

  
  
"That's his wife. We all grew up together over in King County. They started dating in elementary school, if that even counts. Can't say I wasn't jealous of them. Somewhere around the middle school, high school area we had it in our minds that we wanted to be cops.

  
  
Go in together, be partners, take out the bad guys: every little boys' dream. Wish we'd known it wouldn't be that easy. Anyway, we all graduated high school and Rick and I went off to the Police Academy over in Atlanta. After we graduated from there, Rick asked Lori to marry him. Their wedding was pretty fun...I tell you what, seeing Rick drink and try to dance is something to behold and Lori...man, she was something else entirely.

  
  
But not long after that, Rick and I were hired in to the King County Sheriff's Department. We were stoked. Of course, we weren't partners starting out. We were two newbies, fresh meat, and had to work our way up the totem pole. It was tough, the rest of the guys didn't go easy on us, but in no time we were one of them.

  
  
Things were good, there for a while. Carl was born, I was his honorary godfather, and we barbecued about every weekend. Then Rick got promoted. I wasn't jealous, or anything. Hell, I was happy for him.

  
  
But a new job meant more work, more work meant less time at home. Him and Lori started having problems and I was right there in the middle of it. Lori would talk to me about him, he would talk to me about her, and poor Carl would talk to me about _both_ of them. Hell, the last day Rick and I worked together, he was venting to me. Then he got shot.

  
  
It was so bogus, man. Dispatch told us there were _two_ suspects but there was a _third_. He took Rick down and we took him down. I had to be the one to tell Lori that her husband was shot, that he was in a coma and might not wake up. We didn't know if he was going to make it but we never gave up hope.

  
  
Nuh-uh, not until the dead started rising and the military came in and started gunning everyone down. I was there with Rick, in the hospital, when all hell broke loose. Hid in his room and they didn't bother him. They probably thought he was dead. I'd never been so scared in my life."

  
  
Daryl is watching him intensely, listening to the story without interrupting.

  
  
Shane goes on, "And then, it was like a sign: the electricity went out and Rick's machines went out and...and...man, I _checked_ him. I couldn't feel his breath, I couldn't feel his fucking _heart_. But I could still hear the gunshots and figured it was only a matter of time before those fuckers found _me_ and gunned _me_ down. So, I made a call; I had to make sure Lori and Carl were safe. I left Rick in his room, blocked the door so once the shitstorm blew over then we'd at least have an intact body to bury.

  
  
I left and got Lori and Carl and we went to Atlanta but they bombed it before we could get in. Thank God. So a few of us packed up and went over to the old Bellwood Quarry to wait it out there. I was the only authority figure there so I just kind of fell into the role of leader. Didn't ask for it, it just happened.

  
  
Kept everyone safe, including Lori and Carl. It was tough, you know,  but we made it work. _I_ made it work. Eventually it was just like an extended camping trip. And then, wouldn't you know it: not even a month after we get there, Rick comes rolling in with a small group we'd sent into Atlanta for supplies."

  
  
"It was like seeing a ghost."

  
  
Lori's voice surprises both men as she enters the circle from behind them and Shane has to wonder how long she'd been listening, if she was waiting on Shane to confess their affair to this stranger.

  
  
"Daryl, this is Lori and Carl." the ex-cop introduces the mother and child, who take nearby chairs.

  
  
"I thought he was a walker, at first." Carl confesses and Shane refrains from reaching out to comfort him.

  
  
"Hello, Daryl. Glad you're well...you gave us all quite a scare." Lori greets, slipping a stray strand of dark hair behind an ear and then says to Carl, "Say hello."

  
  
"Hello." the boy says quietly, the polite smile not quite reaching his eyes.

  
  
Shane can't blame him; the kid loses his best friend and then nearly loses his life in a disturbingly similar way that his father had.

  
  
He is still a bit pale.

  
  
"Hello Lori, Carl." Daryl greets them back, not looking at them for very long.

  
  
"Been helping out around the farm this morning." Lori throws out after a bit, trying to engage the now-silent pair into a conversation.

  
  
"I got to feed the chickens." Carl tells them, only slightly more enthused than his greeting.

  
  
"Hey, but, that's good. Fattening them up for us to eat?" Shane jokes and immediately the mood is lifted.

  
  
That is, until Glenn's anxious voice declares from the side, "Guys...the barn's full of walkers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wish me luck in the Greatest International Scavenger Hunt the World Has Ever Seen! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo! A new multi-chapter Sharyl fic! Please do things to tell me what you guys think.


End file.
